


A Matter of Love and Death

by ETNMystic



Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [39]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, because you can't spell Happy Valentine's Day without death, gabbie hanna is quaking, happy valentine's day bitches, here's something to scare you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETNMystic/pseuds/ETNMystic
Summary: 14-year-old Siri's family is cursed; one member in the family is murdered every Valentine's Day and their heart is sent to the closest relative in a box. (aka Gabbie Hanna is quaking)With the victim usually being a younger sibling or cousin, she's at her wits' end. Is there any way that they can be saved?Maybe.Is there any way that they can be saved without a cost?Let's find out.....
Relationships: I think? - Relationship, It's not a good ship
Series: Mystic's Original Works (Possibly Transferred From My Other Accounts On Other Writing Sites) [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726699
Kudos: 1





	A Matter of Love and Death

February.   
My least favorite month out of the year. Normal families, knowing that Valentine's Day is coming up, are all like "Don't forget to go out and buy Valentines for Jimmy's class," and stuff like that. My family doesn't do that sort of thing. What do we do instead? Oh, nothing much. We just watch each other and others constantly until after Valentine's Day. Because we know that anyone of us, or them, could be it. The killer.  
You see, apparently, my great-great-great-great grandmother found a cursed necklace as a girl. Now there's a mysterious killer that haunts us day and night. Every Valentine's Day, this killer murders someone in our family, removes the heart, and sends it to the closest relative in a special box with a lid that looks like wooden floor boards.  
Now, as I sit here in this chair, Valentine's Day is coming up and a new victim in our family has probably been chosen by the killer already. I can't stand to think about it, so I head over to the park where my best friend, Cory, is waiting. We always play hockey together in the wintertime and the pond at the park provides a perfect place to play.  
"So, Siri, you excited for Valentine's Day?" Cory asks as he shoots the puck towards me.  
"Would you not tease me about that?" I say as I toss it back.   
Cory knows all too well about the mysterious killer.  
"Sorry, but look on the bright side. Maybe you won't be killed this year," he says, tossing the puck.  
"But the victim's usually one of my siblings or younger cousins. I can't stand the thought of having one of them be killed this year."  
I start to get butterflies in my stomach just thinking about who the victim is this year. I put my stick down and race to a nearby bench. Cory comes and sits down beside me.  
"Why did it have to be my family? Every night in February, I hear voices in my head, torturing me about Valentine's Day. They pound at me in my dreams to the point that I wake up screaming each night. And every month, I get these notes, reminding my family about the killer."  
"Siri, maybe you shouldn't think about it for a while. How about we go to Cocoa's Coffee and get some hot cocoa?"  
I sigh.  
"All right. I guess it's better than worrying."

* * *

We sit in the coffee shop, sipping our cocoas when I hear footsteps approaching.  
"Hey look! It's the nerd bird," says one of the boys.  
"Oh no. Not him again," I say.  
Louis is one of the biggest jerks in the ninth grade. He always picks on Cory, until he realizes that I'm sitting next to Cory.  
"Hey, Louis! Stay away from Cory. He's done nothing to you," I say.  
Louis's pupil expand into the size of a large discus when he sees me. He's always trying to get me to fall in love with him, but he does it in a creepy, killer sort-of way. As if I don't have enough creepiness in my life.  
"Whatever you say, Siri. You know, you're so beautiful that I would kill to get you to love me."  
"Yeah, yeah. Save your creepy pick-up lines for Valentine's Day, Louis. And, this time, save it for some other girl, as if any girl's gonna fall in love with you. Come on, Cory. This time, his jerkiness has broken the scale."  
As Cory and I walk out, I see his eyes expand even more and I know that I've rejected him hard. That's most likely why he chases after me. I'm hard-to-get.

* * *

"Siri, can you get the mail?" my mom asks me.  
It's a week before Valentine's Day. I go grab it from the mailbox, expecting a letter from the killer, hinting at the victim this year.  
I am about to head inside when I see Louis walking along my street. He sees me and immediately runs after me. I start out speed walking, but as he gets closer, I make a run for the door. It seems like I am going to make it when I trip on a crack in the sidewalk. I fall and land on the sidewalk which is lightly covered in snow.  
I end up scraping my hands and face, yet I manage to keep a hold onto the mail. I want to just lie down there, until I remember who is stalking me. He turns onto the walkway just as I am in the doorway. I get inside quickly and lock the door. I hear a loud bump on the door and I know that Louis could've gotten inside if I hadn't closed and locked the door when I did.  
Bleeding and cold from the snow, I patch myself up and then sit down by the fire to go through the mail. At the very bottom of the mail pile is a letter with no return address. I know what the letter is as soon as I find that it's addressed to me. This is the letter that the killer sends every year. It gives a clue about who won't live to see the fifteenth of February, or any other day for that matter. Hands shaking, I brace myself for the worst.  
The letter is usually in a poetic form. This year, I find it's not a limerick like last year, but in ABAB form:  
  
So sad that she must go.  
I am sorry that she must die.  
Rather her blood will not flow.  
I hope her angel will fly.  
  
  
Enclosed is also two roses. One dead and one that looks like it was painted off of a canvas and perfected. The dead rose is addressed to my little sister Mimi.  
"Mimi, I have something for you!" I call.  
Mimi is in the seventh grade, even though she should be in sixth grade. Our family is famous for intelligence. I'm supposed to be in eighth grade, not ninth grade.  
"What is it? I was busy painting a rose."  
"Alive or dead?"  
"Alive, to capture the beauty of nature and humanity, both inside and out. Next, I wanna paint a dead rose, to capture humanity as it is; cold, ruthless, a killer."  
"Well, then you'll need this." I hand her the dead rose, it's petals of black framed with a blood red with the appearance that they could crack at even the slightest touch; just like one of us.  
"Did you get the letter?" Mimi knows about the killer as well.  
"Yeah. The dead one is for you."  
Mimi takes one look at the rose and her eyes grow wide. She runs upstairs and I hear sobbing from her room. At first I'm not sure why she's acting this way. Then I look at the rose and remember. Each year, two roses are enclosed just like the one in this letter. The alive rose is for me and it usually symbolizes the fact that I have another year to live. Either that or it's a Valentine's Day rose from the killer. The person with the dead rose...  
"Oh my God."  
I've just told Mimi that she's gonna die.

* * *

My family sits at the dinner table on Valentine's Day. It's Mimi's last meal, so we have whatever she wants to eat for dinner and dessert. Mimi has been treated special by my family for the entire day. It's been a tradition ever since the first murder in our family.  
I sit by her the entire time. I'm surprised at how well she's taking it. After her intense session of weeping, she's been acting stoic and emotionless. She sits there quietly, ready to accept her death at anytime today. I can't stand her stoic attitude, though. Even my late uncle, Jerry, cried the entire time and he was usually a tough guy. I pull her aside immediately after dessert.  
"Why are you acting like this? I know you're a strong girl, but why aren't you crying?"  
"There's no use in crying. It may be helpful to get out my sadness right now, but crying never solves anything. If anything, crying makes a problem worse. Plus, this isn't gonna change. Crying never changes anything. I'm going to die and that's that. I have to accept my death because it's going to happen and..."  
She breaks down right there and pulls me into a tight embrace. I don't pull away like I usually do with hugs. I embrace her even tighter.  
"Siri, I don't want to die. Why does it have to be me?"  
"I don't know. Maybe it's not you. We should look at the letter. The victim's name is usually hidden in a code."  
"Siri, don't. It's no use. I'm going to die tonight just before midnight. I have to die like Uncle Jerry or Aunt Eva and there's no changing that. I should just get it out now."  
She hugs me even tighter. I stroke her hair, trying to find some way to tell her that it will be alright. But nothing comes to my mind, so we just sit in front of the fire, holding onto each other, as if time will stop for us if we never let go.  
Soon it's nine-thirty, time for Mimi to go to bed one last time. I tuck her in and tell her her favorite story; Oklahoma, with her name in place of Laurey's. Mimi loves Rodgers and Hammerstein, so I put on a CD of soothing Rodgers and Hammerstein songs that I made. I give her one last kiss and walk back to my room, trying to hold back the tears.

* * *

I lie awake in bed, trying to hold back more tears, until I hear the sound of a door opening from downstairs. I don't think that that's mom and dad. The thought of the killer coming into our house sends chills up my spine.  
The sound of footsteps moves upstairs to our bedrooms. I start shivering in fright, until I hear a scream from Mimi's bedroom. I tell myself that Mimi can't die, not today nor anytime soon. I run to Mimi's bedroom to see a large shadow, approaching her bed. The shadow takes out what looks like a knife and aims it at Mimi's heart.  
"Mimi!" I yell.  
"Siri, do something quick!"  
But it's too late. The killer rams the knife into its destination.

* * *

I awaken, my face deathly pale, thankful that it was only a dream. I'm about to lie down and go back to sleep when I hear the door again. Uninvited footsteps walk inside and up to the bedrooms. But the steps don't go to Mimi's room. Instead the footsteps become louder as they approach my room.  
A larger shadow stands in the doorway of my bedroom. In one hand resides a knife, covered in some sort of liquid. The other carries a large box.

 _No,_ I think.   
_This is all wrong. Mimi got the dead rose, not me._

The faces of each person who suffered at their hands flash through my mind, and at that moment, I decide that I've had more than enough of the mysterious killer. It's time to expose the identity once and for all. I dash for my bedside table and turn on the reading lamp, pointing it at the killer. When my eyes become adjusted to the light, I am shocked at who's in my room.  
"Cory?"  
He sets the knife and box down on the floor.  
"Hey, Siri," he laughs sheepishly.

_I'm still dreaming, right?_

"You're the killer?"

"Well, yes, but actually no."

I blink.

"Which is it?"  
"Well, it's a bit difficult for me to explain. I think you're better off asking my brother," he says, gesturing to the doorway.  
Standing there, pale blue eyes and Tom Felton hair, ready to kill, is---  
"Louis? He's your brother and he's the killer?"  
"We work as a team. Cory does the killing and I deliver the heart," he says in his creepy tone of voice.  
"But Mimi got the rose!"  
"Yes, but you're name was in the letter."  
I am confused at this until I remember the letter. It wasn't just a rhyming poem. My name was hidden in acrostic form. I mentally face palm myself.  
"We addressed the rose to Mimi to throw you off guard. You're the real victim, Siri," says Cory.  
"I've been wanting to kill you for a long time now. You'll love it in our dimension, the Shadow Realm," says Louis.  
"Shadow? But aren't shadows--?"  
"Ghosts? Yes, they are. Villainous ghosts. When I heard that I was to be the king after my father died six months ago, I knew I'd have to have a queen. That's when I thought of you," Louis tells me.  
"But why are you killing me?"  
"Because my love for you is as strong as a knife."  
You know, I told him to save the creepy, pick-up lines for Valentine's Day, but there's a sort of morbid irony in that particular pick-up line that is highly sickening and foreboding.  
"It was going to be Mimi, at first. But then you told me that you couldn't stand the thought of one of your siblings or cousins being killed, so we had to find another person to kill. At first I objected because it seemed too awkward. Because what if we came and you weren't in PJs? You know how awkward that would've been? But after a lot of talking, we ended up picking you instead, but we still decided to hint who we might've killed to throw you off a bit," purrs Cory.  
"Plus, I have to follow the rules of the curse. The queen must be at least fourteen and she must be from your family. Well, I'd say she fits those requirements, right Cory?"  
"But the rules say that the queen also has to be dead," Cory points out.  
"Well we shouldn't break any rules then, right dearest?" Louis says as he picks up the knife.  
"Mind if I take this kill, Cory?"  
"Of course not, Louis."  
"Looks like Mimi will be receiving her heart tonight," he says with an evil grin.  
I quickly look around for a weapon of some sorts. I can't pick up my full-view mirror. They'd probably annihilate me before I'd leave the bed. The reading lamp? That might work. I begin to reach for it when it suddenly goes flying off the bedside table. It crashes to the floor and I'm trapped in sheer darkness. I suddenly begin to feel my courage decreasing rapidly. As if it had been there before.  
"But you can't possibly love me!" I blather in hopes of stalling and giving me more time to live.  
"I've rejected you so many times. You can't possibly still love me! And besides, I don't love you! You can't make me love you! Unless the liquid on the knife is--"  
I trail off, expecting the worst. I smell a strange, almost euphoric, concoction nearby.  
"Shit," I gasp.  
"There's no way that it's---"  
"Love potion, my dearest? What else would it be?" he chuckles maniacally.  
My worst fear has been confirmed and I give a small whimper. I try one last thing.  
"Mimi--" I begin to call out before Louis strokes my mouth with his hand, taking away my voice. I whimper in fright as a tear streams down my face.  
"Oh, Siri. Innocent, lovely, beautiful Siri," he purrs in my ear as he caresses my face.  
"Remember when I said that you were so beautiful that I'd kill to get you to love me?"  
I nod, trembling as Cory pins my arms down, creating a direct path for the knife to drive into my heart.  
"That wasn't an expression."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, bitches!


End file.
